Suppose we try another metre.

“The Spirit saw and smiled,
And an interminable radiance glowed
Throughout her lucid frame;
There rose within her soul
A wild unspeakable intelligence,
A sweet and gentle light,
Which through her eyes in countless flashes shone
Intolerably bright;
Like to an infinite multitude of stars
Gemming the arch of Heaven;
Or, rather, like the shining balls that come
Out of a Roman candle.”

However, we are not quite sure that, with the exception of the two last lines, we have not quoted the rest of the foregoing example from memory.

It were manifestly culpable to make no mention, in a work of this sort, of certain measures which are especially and essentially of a comic nature. Some of these have been already adverted to, but two principal varieties yet remain to be considered.

1. Measures taken from the Latin, in which the structure of the ancient verse, as far as the number and arrangement of the feet are concerned, is preserved, but the quantity of which is regulated in accordance with the spirit of our own language. The character of such verses will be best displayed by employing them on sentimental or serious subjects. Take, for example, Long and Short, or Hexameter and Pentameter verses.

“Jūlĭă, gīrl ŏf my̆ heārt, ĭs thăn jēssămĭne swēetĕr, ŏr frēsh mēads
Hāy-cŏvĕr’d; whāt rōse tīnts thōse ŏn hĕr chēeks, thăt flŏurīsh,
Approach? those bright eyes, what stars, what glittering dew-drops?
And oh! what Parian marble, or snow, that bosom?
If she my love return, what bliss will be greater than mine; but
What more deep sadness if she reprove my passion?
Either a bridegroom proud yon ivy-clad church shall receive me
Soon; or the cold church-yard me with its turf shall cover.”

Or the Sapphic metre, of which the late Mr. Canning’s “Knife-Grinder” is so brilliant an example. Sappho, fair reader, was a poetess, who made love-verses which could be actually scanned. History relates that, for the sake of some unprincipled or unfeeling fellow, she committed felo de se.

“‘Ī căn ēndūre thīs crŭĕl pāin nŏ lōngēr;
Fare ye well, blue skies, rivers, fields, and song-birds!’
Thus the youth spoke: and adding, ‘Oh, Jemima!’
Plunged in the billow!”

2. Measures reducible to no rule, or Doggrel. Sternhold and Hopkins, of whom such honourable mention has been made above, were illustrious as Doggrel writers. They have been somewhat eclipsed, however, by their modern successors, Nicholas Brady and Nahum Tate, who may, perhaps, be safely pronounced the chief of uninspired bards.

Original composers in this description of verse are often not much more particular about Syntax,—and we might add Orthography,—than they are about Prosody. The following extract from an unpublished satire on the singing of a country catch-club, is a tolerably fair specimen of English Doggrel:—

“A gentleman, who was passing by,
Was very much amazed at what they were going to try,
Said, ‘Hear their voices, how they sing,
How badly they all chime in!’
After such singing, what do you think of us,
To send forth sounds of mirthfulness?”

Doggrel is commonly used by anonymous poets for the purpose of embodying the moral reflections which a homicide or an execution excites in the sensitive mind. It is likewise the metre in which the imaginative sempstress pours forth the feelings of her bosom. May we hope that our remarks on Prosody will in some little degree tend to facilitate, perhaps to improve, the future treatment of those two deeply interesting subjects—Love and Murder?

CHAPTER III.

PUNCTUATION.

“Mind your stops.” This is one of the earliest maxims inculcated by the instructors of youth. Hence it is clear that the subject of Punctuation is an important one; but inasmuch as the reader, who has arrived at the present page, has either not understood a word that he has been reading, or else knows as much about the matter as we can tell him, we fear that a long dissertation concerning periods, commas, and so on, would only serve to embarrass his progress in learning with useless STOPS. We shall, therefore, confine ourselves to that notice of Punctuation, and that only, which the peculiar nature of our work may require.

First, it may be remarked, that the notes of admiration which we so often hear in theatres, may be called notes of hand. Secondly, that notes of interrogation are not at all like bank notes; although they are largely uttered in Banco Reginæ. Let us now proceed with our subject.

It is both absurd and inconvenient to stand upon points.

Of how much consequence, however, Punctuation is, the student may form some idea, by considering the different effects which a piece of poetry, for instance, which he has been accustomed to regard as sublime or beautiful, will have, when liberties are taken with it in that respect.

Imagine an actor commencing Hamlet’s famous soliloquy, thus:—

“To be; or not to be that is. The question,” &c.

Or saying, in the person of Duncan, in Macbeth:

“This castle hath a pleasant seat, the air.”

Or as the usurper himself, exclaiming,

“The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!
Where got’st thou that goose? Look!”

Crying, as Romeo,

“It is my lady O! It is my love!”

Or in the character of Norval, in the tragedy of Douglas, giving this account of himself and his origin:

“My name is Norval. On the Grampian hills
My father feeds.”

In short, Punctuation is the soul of Grammar, as Punctuality is that of business.

Perhaps somebody or other may take advantage of what we have said, to prove both Punctuation and Punctuality immaterial. No matter.

How very punctual the present Ministers are! how well they keep their appointments!

We have now said as much as we think it necessary to say on the head of English Grammar. We shall conclude our labours with an “Address to Young Students;” and as to the question, what that has to do with our subject, we shall leave it to be settled by Lindley Murray, whose example, in this respect, we follow. All we shall observe is, that in our opinion, advice concerning manners stands in the same relation to a Comic English Grammar, as instruction in morals does to a Serious one. For the remarks which it will now be our business to make, we bespeak the indulgence of our elder readers, and the attention of such as are of tender age.

ADDRESS TO YOUNG STUDENTS.

Young Gentlemen,

Having attentively perused the foregoing pages, you will be desirous, it is to be presumed, of carrying still further those comical pursuits in which, with both pleasure and profit to yourselves, you have been lately engaged. Should such be your laudable intention, you will learn, with feelings of lively satisfaction, that it is one, in the accomplishment of which, thanks to Modern Taste, you will find encouragement at every step. The literature of the day is professedly comic, and of the few works which are not made ludicrous by the design of their authors, the majority are rendered so in spite of it. In the course of your reading, however, you will be frequently brought into contact with hackney-coachmen, cabmen, lackeys, turnkeys, thieves, lawyers’ clerks, medical students, and other people of that description, who are all very amusing when properly viewed, as the monkeys and such like animals at the Zoological Gardens are, when you look at them through the bars of their cage. But too great familiarity with persons of this class is sure to breed contempt, not for them and their manners, but for the usages and modes of expression adopted in parlours and drawing-rooms, that is to say, in good society. Nay, it is very likely to cause those who indulge in it to learn various tricks and eccentricities, both of behaviour and speech, for “It is certain, that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is caught, as men take diseases, one of another.” Shakspere.

Beset thus, as you will necessarily be, by perils and dangers in your wanderings amid the fields of Comicality, you will derive great advantage from knowing before-hand what you are likely to meet with, and what it will be incumbent on you to avoid. It is to furnish you with this information that the following hints and instructions are intended.

Be careful, when you hear yourself called by name, to reply “Here I am,” and not “Here you are,” an error into which you are very likely to be led by the perusal of existing authors.

When you partake, if it be your habit to do so, of the beverage called porter, drink it as you would water, or any other liquid. Do not wink your eye, or nod sideways to your companion; such actions, especially when preceded by blowing away the foam which collects on the top of the vessel, being exceedingly inelegant: and in order that you may not be incommoded by this foam or froth, always pour the fluid gently into a tumbler, instead of drinking it out of the metallic tankard in which it is usually brought to you.

In asking for malt liquor generally, never request the waiter to “draw it mild;” and do not, on any occasion, be guilty of using the same phrase in a metaphorical sense, that is to say, as a substitute, for “Do it quietly.” “Be gentle,” and the like.

Never exhort young ladies, during a quadrille, to “fake away,” or to “flare up,” for they, being unacquainted with the meaning of such terms, will naturally conclude that it is an improper one.

Call all articles of dress by their proper names. What delight can be found by a thinking mind in designating a hat as a tile, trousers, kickseys, a neckerchief, a fogle, or a choker; or a great coat, an upper Benjamin? And never speak of clothes, collectively, as togs or toggery.

Avoid inquiries after the health of another person’s mother, using that word synonymously with Mamma, to denote a female parent. Though you may be really innocent of any intention to be rude, your motives may very possibly be misconstrued. Remember, also, on no account to put questions, either to friends or strangers, respecting the quantity of soap in their possession.

Should it be necessary for you to speak of some one smoking tobacco, do not call that substance a weed, or the act of using it “blowing a cloud.”

When an acquaintance pays you a visit, take care, in rising to receive him, not to appear to be washing your hands, and, should you be engaged in writing at the time, place your pen on the table, or in the inkstand, and not behind your ear.

Observe, when your tailor comes to measure you, the way in which he wears his hair, and should your own style in this particular unfortunately resemble his, be sure to alter it immediately.

Never dance à la cuisinière, that is to say, do not cut capers.

Eschew large shirt pins.

Be not guilty of patent leather boots.

Never say “Ma’am” or “Miss,” in addressing a young lady. If you cannot contrive to speak to her without doing so, say nothing.

In conversation, especially in female society, beware of indulging in jocose expressions, or witticisms, on the subject of executions. If it be necessary to remark that such and such a person expiated his crimes on the scaffold, content yourself with simply mentioning the circumstance, and do not make any attempt to illustrate your meaning by dropping your head on your right shoulder, and jerking up your neckcloth under your left ear.

Never, under any circumstances, let the abbreviation “gent.” for gentleman, escape the enclosure of your teeth. Above all things, for the sake of whatever you hold most dear, never say “me and another gent.”

It may happen, that a youthful acquaintance may so far forget himself as to talk of giving another “monkey’s allowance, more kicks than half-pence.” You, of course, will never dream of giving utterance to such language, nor will any inducement, it is to be hoped, ever prevail upon you to say, as an unthinking young friend once did, hearing the above threat made, “that you prefer kicks (meaning thereby sixpences) to half-pence.” In general avoid all low wit.

When you receive a coin of any kind, deposit it at once in your pocket, without the needless preliminary of furling it in the air.

Never ask a gentleman how much he has a-year.

In speaking of a person of your own age, or of an elderly gentleman, do not say, Old So-and-So, but So-and-so, or Mr. So-and-so, as the case may be: and have no nicknames for each other. We were much horrified not long since, by hearing a great coarse fellow, in a leathern hat and fustian jacket, exclaim, turning round to his companion, “Now, then, come along, old Blokey!”

When you have got a cold in the head and weak eyes, do not go and call on young ladies.

Do not eat gravy with a knife, for fear those about you should suppose you to be going to commit suicide.

In offering to help a person at dinner, do not say, “Allow me to assist you.” When you ask people what wine they will take, never say, “What’ll you have?” or, “What’ll you do it in?”

If you are talking to a clergyman about another member of the clerical profession, adopt some other method of describing his avocation than that of saying, “I believe he is in your line.”

Do not recommend an omelet to a lady, as a good article.

Be cautious not to use the initial letter of a person’s surname, in mentioning or in addressing him. For instance, never think of saying, “Mrs. Hobbs, pray, how is Mr. H.?”

We here approach the conclusion of our labours. Young gentlemen, once more it is earnestly requested that you will give your careful attention to the rules and admonitions which have been above laid down for your guidance. We might have given a great many more; but we hope that the spirit of our instructions will enable the diligent youth to supply, by observation and reflection, that which, for obvious reasons, we have necessarily left unsaid. And now we bid you farewell. That you may never have the misfortune of entering, with splashed boots, a drawing-room full of ladies; that you may never, having been engaged in a brawl on the previous evening, meet, with a black eye, the object of your affections the next morning; that you may never, in a moment of agitation, omit the aspirate, or use it when you ought not; that your laundress may always do justice to your linen; and your tailor make your clothes well, and send them home in due time; that your braces may never give way during a waltz; that you may never, sitting in a strong light at a large dinner-party, suddenly remember that you have not shaved for two days; that your hands and face may ever be free from tan, chaps, freckles, pimples, brandy-blossoms, and all other disfigurements; that you may never be either inelegantly fat, or ridiculously lean; and finally, that you may always have plenty to eat, plenty to drink, and plenty to laugh at, we earnestly and sincerely wish. And should your lot in life be other than fortunate, we can only say, that we advise you to bear it with patience; to cultivate Comic Philosophy; and to look upon your troubles as a joke.

VIVAT REGINA!

THE END.

LONDON: PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY, BANGOR HOUSE, SHOE LANE.

Footnotes:

[1] It may be said that Punch is a foreign importation. True; and the same assertion may be made respecting the drink of that name, the ingredients of which are all exotic, except the water: nevertheless the peculiar fondness of our countrymen for it will hardly on that account be questioned. But the real fact is, that there is nothing outlandish about Punch except the name, and even that has been Anglicised. We are proverbial for improving on the inventions of other nations, but we have done more than improve upon Punch; we have entirely remodelled his character; and he is now no more an Italian than the descendant of one who came in with the Conqueror is a Norman. The correctness of this position will be found to be singularly borne out on a perusal of that celebrated work, “Punch and Judy;” in which (no doubt from unavoidable circumstances) the dialogues were actually taken down from the mouth of an Italian, one Piccini, an itinerant exhibitor of the drama. The book is, or ought to be, in everybody’s hands. Still, let any one refer to that particular part of it, and, provided that his taste is a correct one, he will not fail to be struck with the deteriorating effect which Signor Piccini’s broken English and Italian loquacity have produced on the spirit of the original. Nothing is more characteristic of the real Mr. Punch than the laconic manner in which he expresses himself, and nothing at the same time is more English. As to the embellishments of his discourse, introduced by Piccini, they are about as appropriate and admirable as Colley Cibber’s improvements on Richard the Third.

[2] See Warren’s “Ode to Kitty of Shoe Lane,” Advertisements, London Press, passim.